Facing the Swell
by NagiR
Summary: So we take a necessary step forward, and continue living the emotional whirlpool we call our lives because, otherwise, we’d all be dead. Sam/Freddie Response to Red Rose Misery's challenge: SeddieIsPregnant. Written in the form of poem.
1. Wednesday, September 23, 2009

_Okay, this is the first time I've ever, EVER done anything like this before. I just felt very poetic today. And to let you know again, I've really never did any poetry in my life. Whatever. This is apart of the SeddieIsPregnant challenge. Anyways, for thoughs who want to know, I'm still working the third chapter of iOwnYou. I'm almost done with it. The only reason why it's taking so long is because I completely scraped a lot of what I had writen down, cuz it was horrible. D:  
Well, enjoy. And if you have any pointers, or whatever, I gladly accept them. But I don't like flames, so don't send them._

_Also, this is told in **Sam's **POV. The iCarly gang is 16-17._

_**Disclaimer**: I dun own iCarly._

* * *

**Facing the Swell**

_So we take a necessary step forward, and continue living the emotional whirlpool we call our lives because, otherwise, we'd all be dead._

**Wednesday, September 23, 2009**

You're holding  
the little death stick  
('tis what you've dubbed it)  
in your hand.  
It's the one you purchased  
at the Pharmacy Counter  
on South Blvd.  
You're shaking the little stick of death,  
you're trying to make it give you  
a faster answer,  
an answer that favors you,  
the one that isn't a death sentence.  
You're looking at it now,  
because the stopwatch  
on your cell phone said  
it was time.  
And that little plus is staring  
right back at you,  
in its proud, pink coloring.  
You've always hated math  
and the color pink.

You're lying on your bed, asleep  
when your woken by the sound  
of your cell phone,  
singing some Drake Bell song  
that you've forgotten the name of.  
It's probably Carly  
or maybe even the dork.  
You don't know,  
maybe both.  
You haven't talked to them in days,  
they're probably wondering  
if you're dead.  
But you don't care.  
You just close your eyes  
and let the fatigue you've accumulated  
over the past four days  
bring you back to your slumber.  
You mustn't keep those  
_anxious_ nightmares waiting.

_Wake up,  
_an almost soft murmur.  
You crack an eye open to see Carly,  
she's hovering above you  
and giving you a look  
that could pierce through  
a dozen stone monuments.  
You just stare  
back into her unforgiving eyes.  
_Why haven't you called me?!  
_she's asking you a question  
that you've already expected  
with a disbelieving expression.  
But how could she not?  
You're always at her house,  
24/7,  
always raiding her fridge,  
and doing whatever the hell you want.  
She must think something  
is seriously wrong with you.  
And you know  
she's right.  
Something _is_ seriously wrong with you.

Should you tell her?  
That question's been haunting you  
ever since you woke up 2hours ago  
to see her, staring holes into your soul.  
Should you tell her?  
She is, after all, your best friend,  
really your only friend  
(besides the dork  
but that doesn't count  
not right now).  
Should you tell her?  
She's sitting in front of you  
with the spoon  
full of chocolate ice cream  
in her left hand.  
Her expression is open,  
as well as her heart.  
Should you tell her?  
You know she'll support you.  
Should you tell her?  
The question keeps repeating itself,  
over and over and over  
in your head.  
Should you tell her?  
_Tell me what's going on with you.._  
You sigh  
and dump your spoon  
into the ice cream bucket  
and you do just that.  
"I'm pregnant."

She wants to know who the father is,  
but you don't think  
you're strong enough to relay that info.  
Not just yet.  
Not even the father knows, yet.  
Hell,  
he probably doesn't even remember.  
You both were pretty wasted that night.  
And plus (oh, how you hate the sign),  
how can you tell her that the father  
is _Freddie,_  
the _dork_, the _tech_-_nerd!_  
How can you tell her  
that it's the guy whom you've teased  
since as far back  
as you can remember?  
How can you tell her that?  
You won't.  
You _can't._  
You're not.

* * *

_Should I continue?_

_Reviews please._


	2. Thursday, September 24, 2009

_I was surprised that I actually got some good feedback! Thank you to those who've reviewed! I hope this chapter doesn't disapoint you.  
Important note: I changed the title to Facing the Swell (if you haven't already noticed) because that's what I had originally titled it in WORD.  
**Update 3/23/09: **It seems that this thing is being stupid, and having a few poem/paragraph-things align to the left. Sorry  
_**

* * *

**

**Thursday, September 24, 2009**

You had spent  
the majority of last night  
crying only dry tears  
onto Carly's shoulder  
as she patted you on the back,  
telling you  
over and over  
_it's gonna be alright,_  
and you believe her  
because it has to.

The world has come to an end  
(in more ways than one  
but you're not going to get into that).  
For Carly Shay, _Carly Shay!  
_Little miss good girl,  
is skipping school.  
She's spending Thursday with you  
and you love her for that.  
You think  
that you made the right choice  
when you became friends with this girl  
because she truly is the best.

Carly's been doing some research  
with you  
(or rather, doing it for you)  
while you sit, lazily on her couch watching Juno  
and drinking diet Peppy Cola  
(because apparently  
caffeine is bad for your pregnant body).  
And you think that this movie  
is so simple compared to your life.  
Ha, ha,  
_your baby has finger nails._

When you wake  
from your nap on Carly's couch  
to see Freddie standing above you  
you almost let out a shriek,  
but then the realization  
that you're Sam Puckett  
and Sam Puckett does not _shriek_  
comes over you.  
"How goes it, Fred_dork_?"

He's just staring at you,  
just like Carly did last night.  
He has the whole  
stare-through-a-dozen-monuments  
thing patted down real good.  
You meet his gaze  
and hold it there  
until he has to look away  
from the intensity of it all.  
He asks what's been up with you  
and you tell him  
your mom made you eat asparagus.

You're sitting  
on your favorite bean bag chair  
rehearsing iCarly with your two friends  
because tomorrow is Friday, show day  
and you haven't been giving best  
because Carly's keeps asking you  
if you need anything  
every three minutes  
like she's trying to be your mother.  
And Freddie's been giving you  
this stare  
like he knows to some extent  
that something  
other than this morning's fried chicken  
is inside of you  
but you just shrug it off  
because that can't be possible.  
He can't know,  
because as far as you're concerned,  
ther isn't anythin inside of you.  
_Sam, do you need anything?  
_"I'm fine, Carls."  
He just can't.

For once in your petty existence,  
you willingly went home  
against Carly's wishes that you stay  
so you two could hangout  
(aka, her watching  
how you eat, drink, and sleep),  
but your mom's not home.  
So, whatnot make the most of it?  
You know your mom's shift  
at the Granola Bar ends at 5am  
and she'll bring some guy home,  
but you'll be gone (to Carly's) by then.  
She won't ever know you were here.

When you're on your bed  
and sleep  
is just about to overcome you,  
your hand reaches  
to touch your stomach.  
It's flat and smooth  
and there is no sign  
of what's forming inside  
and a thought strikes you:  
abortion?  
An evil?  
Yes.  
But a necessary one?  
You think so.


	3. Friday, September 25, 2009

_Hello, peeps. Thank you all for those encouraging reviews! They were so cool, and awesome, and DLJFASLDKJ. I loved them all. And I would've had this chapter up yesterday, but I went to my friend's birthday party-thing, and it was AWESOME. Except for the fact that I now have multiple bruises marring my body now (we all play a little rough xDD). Review please. And, in case you want to know, the next chapter of iOwnYou is coming out soon. That chapter is turning into the longest one I've ever typed, so far O.o;_

* * *

**Friday, September 25, 2009**

Carly's forcing you to go to school.  
It's Friday,  
so why should you?  
What's one more day to miss?  
he knows that you'll probably  
just skip class,  
like you always do.  
Yet, you're still here,  
standing at your locker with her.

You're trying to avoid Freddie at all costs,  
but you're really not trying that hard  
as your staring at Gibby,  
thinking how annoying he's being  
standing there with his nerd-friends,  
probably talking about Galaxy Wars.  
You think he needs a wedgie.  
So why are you still standing here?  
The boy is clearly in need of a wedgie.

It's 3rd period,  
and you're in the old janitor's closet.  
It's the one that hasn't been used  
in the 3years you've attended  
Ridgeway High.  
It's your secret place.  
You come here  
almost every time you skip class.  
It's not much,  
but it's homey  
because you've brushed  
this place up a bit  
with an old, dusty red armchair  
you stole  
from old man Higgins' yard.  
And you've cleaned it up  
(like, actually dusted a few spots  
here and there).  
It really isn't much,  
but it's definitely homey,  
at least in school, that is.

You haven't talked to Carly  
about the idea  
having an abortion,  
yet.  
You're sorta afraid  
of what she might say to you  
because, maybe  
she'd want you to keep  
_it  
_(that's the term  
that you refer  
to the thing inside of you as:  
_it_).  
But you're not completely sure  
about whether you want to keep  
_it  
_or not.  
Having an abortion  
is still only a lingering suggestion  
born from your chaotic mind.  
Besides, just how the hell  
would you _ever_ get your hands  
on the money?  
You can barely afford a school lunch,  
much less a 300 dollar abortion.  
But the thought is still here  
in your mind.  
You're still thinking of it,  
it's not completely forgotten.

Now, it's 4th period  
and you're sitting  
in one of the plastic cushioned chairs  
in the Counselor's  
homemade therapeutic office,  
because, apparently, Principle Franklin  
(or Ted, as you like to call him)  
thinks you need guidance in your life  
just because of the wedgie  
you gave Gibby this morning  
was for "no apparent reason".  
Oh,  
you had a reason alright.  
The boy was being annoying!  
You can't help that he irks you  
by just living.

The Counselor  
(or Ms. Scraff)  
is demanding that you look  
at the papers  
with the ink-filled splotches  
in front of you  
and tell her what you see:  
"A cantaloupe with one, hairy ear  
a European Fatcake  
and a ham."  
She's staring at you,  
but not in the same way Carly and Freddie  
have been doing the past two days.  
It's a look filled with loathing  
of yourself and/or her job  
and you laugh.

Ms. Scraff wants to know  
what's been going on in your life  
as of late  
and you think to yourself  
_eating, drinking, sleeping  
oh, and just getting knocked up  
by my"frenemy",  
_but you don't inform her  
of your last thought.

Being jailed in the Counselor's office  
wasted all of your lunchtime,  
but Carly's saved  
you a ham sandwich,  
so it's all good.  
Except for the fact  
that she's just given you a cookie,  
saying that Freddie bought it  
for you.

When you get home  
(Carly's house),  
you make a beeline  
straight toward the fridge  
and Carly makes a comment on how  
you'll most likely start  
to have morning sickness soon.  
And that startles you,  
because you've never thought of it,  
at least, not before now.  
And you can't help  
but shudder at the thought  
of waking up early every morning  
and practically throwing up  
your brain  
and your fried chicken.

Freddie's pointing the camera  
at both you  
and Carly  
and he's counting down from 5.  
You put up a façade  
of genuine happiness  
and that lazy smirk  
that you're known for  
and he gives you this smile  
that makes your stomach flutter.  
And you don't know  
whether it's from indigestion  
from all the crap you ate earlier  
or something else.  
But you just shrug it off  
and continue you making  
funny faces with Carly.

It's late  
and Carly's in her bathroom  
brushing her teeth  
and changing into her PJ's  
while you're laying on her bed,  
yawning and falling  
into a rather nice dream  
about ham  
and maybe just a little bit  
of Freddie  
here and there, too.


	4. Sunday, October 11, 2009

_I know that this is kinda short. But I felt like it should end there, because it felt right. Hopefully, you'll like this chapter. We're kinda getting more into the pregnancy, and sorry that there were no Seddie moments in here. There will be some in the next chapter! Just know that Sam is FALLING in love with him. She isn't already. And I must thank my mom, even though she has no idea that this site even exsists, cuz she's a nurse and gave me some pointers about the stages of pregger-acy. xDD  
And a warning: there be some cussin' in this here chapter._

* * *

**Sunday, October 11, 2009**

You're sitting at the table  
with your mom  
because she's actually attempted  
breakfast this morning  
and she burnt it to hell.  
But you're eating it anyway,  
because it makes her happy  
and that's a rare occurrence  
because since she's started working  
at the Granola Bar  
she's been surrounded  
by alcohol  
and Lord knows, as well as you, that  
she isn't her best  
when that happens.

Suddenly, this wave of nausea  
hits you  
and you find yourself  
bolting from your seat  
and running to your upstairs bathroom  
(your only bathroom),  
but you don't even make it  
halfway up when your hurl  
all over the steps.

The only reason how  
you even made it to the bathroom  
is because your mom.  
She took you gingerly,  
by the arms  
and helped you up each of the steps  
one by one  
and into the bathroom.  
God, how you miss her sober self.  
You wish she can be like this  
more often,  
preferably forever.

You're leaning over the toilet  
smelling the rank that is your vomit  
but you're not paying attention to it  
because another round  
makes its way up your throat  
and you spit all of it out  
in two takes.  
You try not to let your tongue  
touch anything inside of your mouth  
but you fail  
and you taste something  
of burnt, poorly cooked pancakes  
and almost expired chocolate milk  
but only it's thirty times worse.

You haven't told your mom  
that you're pregnant  
yet.  
You don't know  
if she'd be able to handle it  
hell, it might even kill her  
to know that her own child  
is walking down the same path  
as she did when she was your age.  
So you just tell her that  
you've been sick since yesterday  
when you ate some expired tapenade  
and she believes you,  
because how can she not?  
you're a Puckett,  
a skilled, beyond belief, liar.

When you get to Carly's  
you see her and Freddie  
sitting on the couch  
watching some _Girly Cow._  
And, instead of diving into the fridge,  
like you intended to,  
you stop and stare at the two,  
feeling this burning sensation  
in the pit of your stomach,  
but then they acknowledge  
the presence that is you  
smile and greet you  
and after a moment  
you shrug it off  
and head to the fridge, anyway.

You sit down  
next to Freddork,  
because Carly's just gone up stairs  
to help Spencer with something.  
And after a minute, or two,  
he turns to you  
with a grim expression  
and asks why you smell  
so rotten.  
You can't control your hand  
as it goes to connect  
with the back of his head.  
You can't help if you stink.  
You just threw up  
for, like, 3 hours  
and this is the asshole  
is the whole reason  
for doing so.  
He deserves a smack  
to the head  
and that's what you tell Carly  
when she comes down  
to see the dork  
cradling the back of his head  
but you don't tell her why  
he deserves such treatment  
because she already knows.

Just because of what  
Fredweird said to you,  
you find yourself in Carly's shower  
but you're not really washing yourself.  
You're just sitting down  
on the bathtub floor,  
letting the cold tiles  
that have not yet been heated  
by the water  
send tingling sensations  
throughout your body  
and you find yourself  
thinking of that night_—_  
the night that you'll never forget,  
but you want to.  
You want to forget _so _Goddamn badly  
that it hurts  
and hurts and hurts  
and you don't think  
that you'll ever  
stop hurting.


	5. Monday, October 12, 2009

_Okay, as you can see, I'm trying out a different way to write this thing (using captials, periods, commas, ect.). And I kinda like it. I think it's sorta easier to write like this, you know? But I want your feedback. Do you think I should continue to write like this, or should I revert to my old way? Please, tell me what you think, because I listen. Also, critique is always welcome. And be warned that there are a few cuss words in this chapter, but hey, this isn't rated T for nothing. So, have at it, and review. Please? _

**

* * *

**

**Monday, October 12th, 2009  
**  
You're not going to be able  
to attend 1st and 2nd period  
because you're leaning over  
Carly's toilet,  
listening to the sound  
you're making as another load  
of vomit shoots up your throat.  
_It's gonna be alright,  
it's gonna be alright,  
_she says,  
_it's gonna be alright, Sam,  
it's gonna be alright.  
_She's holding your greasy hair  
as you sweat like a pig,  
letting out another bout  
of shit from your unforgiving stomach.  
Again, she's chanting the message  
that you've heard so many times  
from her this past month:  
_It's gonna be alright,  
it's gonna be alright.  
_Listen to Carls.  
She's really almost  
all you have.

After you're all showered up,  
and the stench of this morning's session  
is gone,  
you're sitting on Carly's couch,  
watching _Girly Cow._  
That's when Carly informs you,  
from where she sat at the computer,  
that morning sickness  
doesn't last that long,  
just a few months—  
just a few months of  
complete, utter hell,  
you presume.

It's 4th period, lunch time,  
by the time you make it to school.  
Carly's dragging you by the arm  
to the cafeteria.  
_C'mon, Sam,  
don't you want to eat?  
_And you have to ask yourself,  
_is she really asking me that?  
After I just heaved up all that shit?  
_But suddenly, you come to find out  
that your stomach is growling at you.  
Now you're dragging _her_  
to the cafeteria.

Freddie is already sitting  
with his food  
at the lunch table that  
you, him, and Carly  
usually occupy  
when you and Carly get there.  
He perks up at seeing  
the two of you,  
or at least at seeing Carly.  
But whatever, you don't care.  
Right?

Carly's bought you lunch,  
but you've already woofed that down,  
so now you have nothing.  
And your stomach is still hungry.  
So you inform Carly of this,  
but you don't know why,  
because the last of her lunch  
is now in her mouth;  
she's savoring its taste.  
And you have no idea why  
she's doing that either.  
It's cafeteria food,  
for Pete's sake!  
All you do know,  
is that you're still hungry,  
and you want food,  
now.

The apple's just sitting there.  
In front of Freddie,  
which is also in front of you  
seeing as you're sitting  
across from him.  
It's his apple.  
But you want to make  
it yours.  
And you do.  
When Freddie's turned  
to face Carly,  
telling her some useless  
(as far as you are concerned)  
info about tech-stuff,  
you snatch the apple,  
right from under his nose!  
(You still have it in you,  
no pregnancy can take that  
from you.)  
He doesn't even notice,  
until he turns to see you  
with it in your hand.  
But he doesn't try  
to win it back  
(because he knows  
that he can never get it back;  
it's yours now).

Licking your lips,  
you bite down  
into the juicy, bright red apple  
in your hand.  
The delicious juices gush  
from the fruit  
and into your mouth.  
You've never been a big fan of fruit  
but this is just fucking tasty.

You're raiding Carly's fridge,  
like you always do.  
And right when you're about  
to open the container that is filled  
with last night's ribs,  
Spencer apparently decides  
that he wants to shout:  
_MONKEYS EAT CRANBERRIES_  
from behind you.  
"RAAH!"  
You—Sam Puckett—_scream_,  
and drop the container full of ribs  
onto the floor.  
The top bursts open,  
and the ribs splay across  
the kitchen floor.  
You shoot a look filled with evil  
at the Shay, who's staring back  
at you with shock and horror  
written all over his face.  
_S-Sam,_  
he stutters,  
_I'm—I'm so sorry!  
_Your eyes leave his face  
only to go back to your  
poor, now filthy, ribs.  
What the hell?  
You reach down  
and pick up one of the ribs.  
You're about to take a bite,  
when Carly comes outta nowhere,  
and snatches it outta your hand.  
_You will _not_,  
_she growls, throwing the rib away.  
You give her a crestfallen look  
and she and Spencer end up  
buying you ribs from the deli  
down town.  
Life is (sorta) good.

Freddie's come over.  
He's sitting on the couch,  
watching _Girly Cow_  
with you and Carly.  
Nothing that interesting happens.  
You just call'em a dork,  
insult his mother,  
he tries to argue back,  
Carly gets fed up,  
and tells the two of you  
to shut up,  
just the usual.  
There was nothing  
out of the ordinary when  
he accidently brushed his hand against  
your knee.  
There was nothing  
out of the ordinary when  
you wanted to punch him  
in the face  
because of the fact  
that he made your body  
all tingly when he did it.

It's past midnight,  
and you're laying in Carly's bed,  
wide awake  
while she's fallen into her  
peaceful dreamland.  
You've just come out of your  
own dreamscape,  
or perhaps nightmare  
would be a better word for it.  
But either way, you can't  
get back to sleep,  
because a question  
keeps racking your mind,  
like a hammer did to a railroad track  
back in the olden days.  
It's asking you  
if you should tell Freddie  
about _it_.  
He is, after all,  
the father of your bab—  
_it_, the thing inside of you.  
But you quickly push it back  
into that silly head of yours,  
that so many people have  
deemed stupid.  
And you're starting  
to believe their accusations.


	6. Friday, October 23, 2009

_So, yeah. I haven't updated in a while, but I have a reason for that! I moved a couple of streets over from where my old house now rests. It's weird I know. But I really didn't want to cause a fuss about moving when it was just a couple of streets down and I would've gotten my internet back in a few days, so I didn't post an AN filled chapter thing. So I just posted the news on my profile. But anyways, I have some **important**, yet **exciting** news! A couple of days ago, I had gotten a PM from a person named Lolleys, well, she's Wordy Typewriter on . But aslkfjlsdkj. She's so cool! And we were talking, like yesterday, and she said that she'd like to write a companion piece to FTS (you know, "Facing the Swell"), it's still in Sam's POV and in 2nd person, but it's gonna have detail, and stuff. You know, like regular multi-chaptered stories.  
We're kinda writing it together (she's doing the writing; I'm providing detail when she needs it), but she's the one who's gonna post it. I can't wait to see her work, because, even though she's never posted anything on here, she's let me read some of her other stuff. It's not iCarly, but it rocks! Anyways, I don't know when it's gonna be up, or what it shall be titled, yet. We're thinkng something along the lines of "Otherwise We'd All be Dead" (you know, from the summary of FTS) or just naming it "Facing the Swell", something like that. If you have any ideas for a title, please give them.  
Anyways, nothing really happens in this chapter. I'm sorry. D:_

* * *

**Friday, October 23, 2009**

_Samantha!_  
You're waking up  
to your mom's terrified  
voice and face.  
She's hovering above you,  
visibly shaking  
with an expression  
full of fear  
and you can smell  
the alcohol  
in her breath.  
_Samantha, please!  
_She screams until you think  
she'll explode.

"Mom!"  
You grab both sides of her face  
and try with all you might  
to make her stop shaking,  
but she just won't stop.  
"Mom, what's wrong?"  
Tears are brimming her eyes  
and you stop and think  
for a moment.  
Does she know?

_Tell me that it isn't  
true.  
_Oh, God.  
She knows..  
She knows!  
She fucking _knows!_  
How the hell does  
she fucking know?!  
You feel the fear creeping  
up your throat,  
and for once,  
you wish it were  
that shit you up chuck  
every morning.

You let your hands  
fall numb to your sides  
as she bends down  
and buries her head  
into your chest.  
"'M sorry..."  
You have no idea  
why you're apologizing  
to this woman.  
You really don't.

_Why?  
Why?!  
Samantha!  
_You didn't expect her  
to react like this.  
But of course,  
how _does_ one expect  
their parents to react  
when they find out  
their teenage daughter  
is pregnant?  
_Why did Challam  
run away?!  
Why did he leave?!_

...  
Did you ears  
just deceive you?  
Did you just hear  
your mother ask  
why did her cat,  
Challam,  
run away  
and not why  
you've been implanted  
with a spore?

_Mew-yoow._  
You look up  
to see Challam strut  
his little gray and black self  
through your door.  
Upon hearing the sound  
of her beloved cat,  
your mom jumps from you  
and scampers over  
to her cat.

And you can't help  
but laugh  
and laugh and laugh  
and laugh.  
You laugh until you  
accidently create this pain  
in your stomach  
and can't laugh anymore  
but you try  
and it comes out  
as a strangled gasp.  
Tears are running  
down your cheeks  
when you're finally able  
to release yourself  
from your seemingly  
uncontrollable fit  
of insane laughter.

When you get to Carly's  
apartment and you've  
made sure that  
you two are all alone,  
you tell her  
the little 'incident'  
you had with your mother  
this morning.  
She reacts in a way  
you expect:  
horrified,  
but then she proposes  
an innocent question of  
_When are you going  
to tell her?_

"Never."  
It's not like you haven't  
thought about telling  
you mom before  
because you know  
you have,  
it's just something  
that you don't think  
you'll ever be ready  
to tell.

Carly doesn't look  
very satisfied with  
your answer,  
but she takes it  
nonetheless.  
_Fine. But you know  
you're going to have  
to tell her, eventually,  
_she says.  
_You can't just go  
around and expect  
her to accept the  
fact that your belly  
has seemingly eaten  
an oversized basket ball!  
_  
And you know this  
all too well, too.  
So you busy yourself  
with her fridge.  
Food's always been  
a delicious comfort  
for you.  
"Hey, it could happen.  
Basket ball has  
always been my  
favorite sport."

It's nighttime  
once again  
and you're sitting,  
or rather, laying on your side  
next to Carly  
with your legs twisted  
so that they can be propped  
up in her lap,  
and Freddie's sitting  
on the floor  
in front of the two  
of you.

He's resting the back  
of his head on  
the knee cap that  
you've let hang off  
the edge of the couch.  
He looks uncomfortable  
and you know,  
quite well yourself,  
that your knees are boney,  
yet he's still laying  
his head there.  
You don't know why,  
but you sorta like it there.


End file.
